I feel as though my posts are merely updates, pictures, and recipes. I can’t remember the last time I wrote a very meaningful post on here.

And this is because I have slowly but surely lost control of my day.

I felt as though I was on a roll when Benjamin was 7-8 months old. He was napping regularly and I could depend on those times to accomplish many a thing. I would have high ambitions for things like scrubbing bathrooms, or dusting. Or even unloading the dishwasher BEFORE supper dishes crowded the kitchen counter. Or how about this one: folding laundry. Before the day was done even. It was more normal than not that I wouldn’t let a day go by without completing that day’s laundry.

But I’ve lost control. It has slipped from my grasp like… like… like a baby fresh from the bathtub intent on streaking through the house.

It’s because when Benjamin was 9-10 months old, I agreed to watch a friend’s child. He’s only three months older than Benjamin, so I really do feel as though I suddenly and belatedly became the mother of twins. Except one of them cried at the sight of me for the first four months I watched him.

He doesn’t cry at the sight of me anymore, but he will still cry at the drop of a hat. Like if anyone touches him. Or makes a move towards him as if they had the intention of touching him. Or if I leave the room. I can’t go to the bathroom, change a diaper, clean a mess, or make lunch without having him follow me into that room and scream at me. And nothing stresses me out more than having someone scream at me while I’m doing them a favor (like fix them lunch.) I mean, I knew motherhood could be a thankless job, but babysitting really is a few miles below that.

Anyway. All that to say. Nothing gets done anymore. Even on a good day. A day where he’s in a rare, happy, content mood. Even on a day when I don’t watch him. I’m just not in the habit of being productive anymore. And he’s not even here all day. Monday, Wednesday, Friday, he’s here from 9-12 and 3:30-5:30. His mom insists on taking him home to nap. On Tuesdays, I just watch him from 9-12. I use any and all free time to sit. And breathe. And enjoy the silence. And the lack of being needed.

And I can’t even pretend to blame the boy I watch for all my stresses and worries. Because, have I mentioned the Benjamin likes to climb? That keeps a momma busy. And Olivia refuses to potty train? That’s THREE in diapers. Oh, some days she’s willing to try, but that makes more work. Underwear is harder to clean out than a diaper. And then I have to changer her whole outfit. Oh, who am I kidding? She goes pants-less.

And then there was that House Hobby we had for a bit when we were searching and scouring and comparing and calling and driving and calling and looking and calling and talking and calling and financing. And calling. That was time-consuming.

So I feel compelled to explain to you the absence of any post of real depth around here lately.

I get the bare essentials done everyday. I wash a load, hang a load, take a load off the line. I clear breakfast dishes (Josh feeds them!), make lunch, feed them lunch, clear lunch dishes. I used to make bread every other day – now the fam’s lucky if they get it twice a week. I used to vacuum every day (especially that durn carpeted dining room that feeds THREE under three now), now I prefer not to walk barefoot in that general area. Because it reminds me of how little I actually accomplish anymore.

I used to have little homeschooling moments with Olivia during Benjamin’s morning nap, but I had to wean him from his morning nap because The Boy I Watch (henceforth to be referred to as TBIW) is too demanding to let me put my own child to sleep. So I’ve started keeping her up from her nap a bit longer after Benjamin goes down for his in the afternoon. Which results in naptime shifts. Benjamin takes the first, Olivia takes the second, and then before you know it, TBIW is here again and I need to start thinking about supper.

Yes, I want kids. Yes, I want a lot of kids. Yes, I want them close together. So, yes, I will have to learn to deal with this. I just thought I had more time. And I’m just wallowing in self-pity that my two-child days are over now. Before I really even got a good grasp on them. Now I have to adjust to three.

(And my pattern generally is this: It takes about 8-9 months to get used to the additional child. Yep, I’m a slow learner.)